


dusk till dawn

by disorderedorder



Category: Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Post-TLJ, TLJ Spoilers, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 10:27:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13098150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disorderedorder/pseuds/disorderedorder
Summary: ‘cause I wanna touch you, babyand I wanna feel you, tooI wanna see the sunrise and your sinsjust me and you





	dusk till dawn

**Author's Note:**

> ***TLJ SPOILERS ARE INCLUDED IN THIS FIC***
> 
> I listened to that Zayn song at least ten times writing this

_“Long live the Supreme Leader.”_

The general’s words seem to echo off the walls of the ruined throne room as you face off with Kylo Ren for the second time. Before, Supreme Leader Snoke had been goading you on, urging you to strike Kylo down, to take your place as his one and only apprentice from that moment on. In the heat of the moment, you’d been almost convinced, ready to follow orders, until Kylo had reached out to you through the Force, begging you not to, reminding you of the bond you had with him, how much he needed you if he were to free you both. You’d deactivated your weapons and walked out, and if you hadn’t trusted Kylo, you would have been terrified to do so, out of fear of Snoke’s fury. The last thing you’d heard was the sound of a lightsaber activating, followed by Snoke’s incredulous gasp.

 

Now, as you watch General Hux’s retreating back, you stare out the transparisteel walls, no longer covered by the red façade. Outside, you watch as the right side of the Supremacy, as well as several tons of debris, float away from the rest of the ruined ship. Around you, the room burns, the fire consuming what’s left of the Praetorian guards, the few things Snoke kept in the room, and the machinery. Sparks fall from the ceiling and the lights flicker on and off, the temperature of the room rising gradually, from tolerable to boiling hot as the cooling systems go into shutdown. It’s emergency protocol, you realize, as all power is now being directed to fuel the escape transports, much like the design of the Resistance ships.

 

But your focus is not on the ship, the room, or the death of your former master. Rather, you are focused completely on the new Supreme Leader, your lover, and your confidante, Kylo Ren. But an anger still burns in your chest towards him, your heart threatening to beat right out of your chest as you attempt to steady your breathing. The heat of the room threatens to suffocate you, but you’ve survived worse. Compared to the fires of Mustafar, the room is nothing more than a moderate day on Scarif. The twin sabers at your sides threaten to burn you, not from heat, but from the temptation to pull them out, to face off against Kylo yourself this time.

 

He turns to you slowly, but his focus is not on you; like you, he is observing the ruined room and the dead body of his master. You swallow a volley of words, most of them insults, and you collect your dignity as you sink to one knee in a kneeling position, much like you used to with Snoke. It takes all your control to lower your head as well, your hair falling in damp strands by your face. Sweat beads on your forehead, collects at your collar, and underneath your gloves. You look up at Kylo, who’s finally focused on you, kneeling to him as though he were royalty. He is now, you suppose, now that he’s disposed of the most powerful being in the galaxy to usurp his title and throne.

 

“Rise,” he says, activating his saber and pointing it at you. “You have no need to bow before me. We are free, and we are equals now.”

 

“Then am I free to take my leave?” you ask as you rise to your feet, your left hand going to your hip to trace over the hilt of your saber. It still burns, but less so. “This is your fight now, not mine. I’ve done my job.”

 

“You would take your leave of me?” Kylo asks in disbelief. “Did you not hear me say we are equals now? We can take down the Resistance together, we can rule the galaxy.”

 

It takes you a split second to process his words, and even less time for your right hand to take your other saber from your holster, followed by your left, and to activate them both as you assume a defensive stance. “Don’t you _dare_ ,” you snap, caring little for the shocked look on his face.

 

“We can solve this after, but the Resistance is _getting away_ ,” he says, his voice rising in frustration, but you notice his feet taking a different stance, one you recognize too well. You take a step forward, not back, remembering that while Kylo is bigger and stronger, you’re smaller and faster. He watches you for a moment before he strikes, his saber clashing with yours and forcing you back at least three steps. The impact and shock send a tremor through you before you press back, using both your sabers to push back towards him.

 

“ _STOP THIS_ ,” he yells, his saber striking dangerously close to your waist as he frees himself from your hold. “We are on the same side, and we always have been!”

“Have we, _Ben_?” you ask, venom seeping through your words. “Or have we only been on the same side since you decided that I was always more powerful than she is, than you are?”

 

“ _Ben Solo is_ **_dead_ ** _,_ ” he snarls as he strikes at you again. You dodge his blade just in time to drop into a roll and come up with both your sabers blocking a potentially fatal blow to your collarbone. For years, you thought he would never kill you in cold blood, but now, you’re not so sure.

 

“Is he now?” you ask, your words nearly a taunt. “Or was there an exception to that rule when she kept calling you that?” You strike at him again, the tips of your sabers grazing the leather of his boots, leaving a scorching mark where they struck. He stumbles back in shock, regaining his composure, and allowing you to stand again and gain the upper hand as you begin to strike at him relentlessly with both sabers. He blocks each strike, but you notice his energy waning, his strength slowing down as you force him to his knees. However, you’re no longer striking to kill, but rather, to weaken him. His saber is now held up in defense, a tool only used now to attempt to block your blows as you come down on him again and again.

 

At first, you believe your shaking is coming from your body beginning to slow and weaken, and only when your vision goes completely blurry in a pool of red and black and yellow do you realize that you’re _crying_. You land a solid kick to the middle of Kylo’s chest with enough force to roll him onto his back, his stomach now vulnerable. Sobs rack your body as you begin to slow, to your dismay. Anger burns through you like a wildfire, but the adrenaline coursing through your body is gone now, and the fatigue of your exertion is catching up with you as you stumble back, both sabers still activated.

 

“Did you mean it,” you choke out in a statement, not a question. “That you wanted _her_ to rule by your side.”

 

Kylo stands on shaky legs, his saber deactivated, as he struggles to regain his balance. He faces you, looking angry, hurt, and you could almost dare to say he looks betrayed. “No.”

 

“Don’t you _dare_ lie to me, or I swear on our dead master’s body that I _will_ kill you, or I will die trying,” you yell, raising your weapons again.

 

“Put them down,” Kylo says, his voice infuriatingly calm. “Put them down, and let me explain.”

 

“Put yours down,” you insist, and without flinching, he tosses his saber aside. Every part of you is telling you to not do the same, but you do, both your sabers clattering to the ground at your sides.

 

“You forget what I told you before,” he says. “I already told you she is _no one_. I was manipulating her. It’s as if you forget everything I say when the situation moves in a different way than you expect. Not everything is crystal clear.”

 

Your chest heaves as you force yourself to breathe evenly, and after a moment, you feel the tingles in your body dissipate, your stability returning. Kylo watches as you take in his words, his eyes flickering between you and the chaos outside. His concern is evident as he watches the other First Order ships firing on the few remaining Resistance transports, and you can’t help but want to pull him into a vision so he’ll just _focus._

 

“What am I to you anymore?” you ask, your voice breaking dangerously in the middle of your sentence. “Am I a pawn to you, or am I a knight?”

 

“No,” he says, his voice soft, almost wistful. He tears his eyes away from the burning ships, the destruction outside, and he turns back to you. His steps are slow, deliberate, as he comes to stand before you, towering over you at his full height of six feet, eight inches. You expect him to stroke your hair, your cheek, to show a sign of affection, but instead, he kneels, much like you did before, and much like he did with Snoke. His head is lowered, and he extends one hand, calling for his saber. But instead of putting it back at his belt when it touches his hand, he extends it to you, raising his head so his eyes meet yours again.

 

“Rule by my side, as my empress,” he says, his words bearing no trace of insincerity. “We were bound for a reason, and not under the influence of our former master. We are free now, free to shape the galaxy in our own image, and to resurrect the Dark Side to its former glory.”

 

You take his saber gingerly in one hand, feeling the balance and weight of it, your fingers unable to circle the hilt. Experimentally, you activate it, and the sheer heaviness of it catches you off guard. It is an unstable saber, and you wonder just how much longer it could be before it hurts its user. It’s nothing like the weightless elegance of your twin sabers, which you’ve grown so accustomed to. This saber, you have to hold in both hands, lest the instability and weight overwhelm you. After a moment, you deactivate it, placing it back into Kylo’s outstretched hand. You extend your own, calling for your own sabers, which you tuck back at your belt.

 

The room is now unbearably hot, threatening to burn the skin off your arms, but you reach down, cupping Kylo’s face in both your hands in what could be called a lovers’ gesture. His eyes are tender as he gazes at you, and after a moment, one of his hands covers yours, the heat of his hands still burning hot through his gloves. His thumb strokes yours, and you close your eyes, basking in your moment of peace before you urge him to his feet once more.

 

“What are your orders, then?” you ask as he stands, his hand reaching for yours as he observes the room once more.

 

“We take the command shuttle to the surface of Crait, with the battering ram cannon, and end the Resistance once and for all,” he says, and while his voice is even, almost calm, you can see the rage burning behind his eyes.

 

“And what would you have me do?” you ask.

 

“Summon the Knights,” he says as he leads you out of the room. “Take my TIE Silencer, get to the nearest Starfighter. I will join you once our job is done on Crait, and we will reconvene with what’s left of the Order on Coruscant. There are still a great many systems supporting us. The loss of the crew here on the Supremacy will not slow us.”

 

The elevator’s lights flicker as it takes you down to the hangar bay, and Kylo pulls you to his side, draping one side of his cape around you as you lean against him, taking a few deep breaths to calm your nerves.

 

“Come back,” you say as you bury your face into his chest. “Promise me you’ll come back.”

 

He’s silent, but the hand in your hair and the arm around your smaller frame says it all. You feel like a doll next to him, but the sense of possessiveness and safety he provides you makes you remember that you’re his empress now, and soon, you know a proper marriage will be at hand, even if it were to be officiated by an officer, in secret. It’s not what you imagined for yourself when you were younger, but with Kylo, it matters little to you how or where you’ll be married, as long as you’re with him.

 

As the elevator slows to a stop, Kylo presses a kiss to the top of your head, his fingers still gently stroking your damp hair back down. You only lean into him more, your desire to leave him nowhere to be found. His heart still beats too fast, his energy still surging, and you wish you could pull him away, take him someplace quiet to settle him. You know for a fact he hasn’t slept in nearly eighteen hours.

 

“Remember what I said,” he says as the doors open. “I will rejoin you, and my knights. You are their master now. They’ve always looked to you before carrying out my orders anyway.”  
  
You manage a small laugh as he steps out of the elevator, his hand still in yours. For a moment, you go to follow him, before you remember that his TIE Silencer and the command shuttle are on opposite sides of the bay. He lets your hand slip from his, but not before looking back at you with a longing look on his face, one that all but says to you that you have unfinished business once he deals with the Resistance on Crait.

 

The officers in the hangar step out of your way when you pass them, but you’re too preoccupied to pay them too much attention as you climb the ladder to board Kylo’s beloved ship. The inside is not unfamiliar to you, but it feels strange being inside without Kylo there by your side. For a moment, you think of the first time you flew together, he at the controls and you in the gunner’s position, in one of the standard-issue TIEs. You’d flown around Starkiller, shooting down trees until General Hux called you back to the main base to tell you to stop.

 

Flying is no new thing for you, but as you get the ship off the ground, you feel a brief wave of doubt. Companionship is not necessary for you to fly, but you feel a tugging in your chest as you watch the command shuttle leave the bay. It’s your bond, becoming stronger still. You guide your own ship out of the bay a moment later, the scream of it muffled by the walls as you steer it outside, towards the Finalizer. You reach out to the rest of the Knights with the Force, who soon appear behind your ship in smaller shuttles of their own. The silent command you give them to follow you is met with no hesitation, and as you land your ship in the bay of the Finalizer, forcing a horde of troopers and officers out of the way with your appearance, you wonder what you’ll say to the rest of the Knights, to inform them of the situation.

 

As you step out of the ship, you are greeted by several officers, who help you out of your ship, joined by the Knights themselves, who huddle around you like bodyguards. They gather around you, murmuring in various tongues, some in Basic, but some in their native languages. The answer you give them all is the same: Supreme Leader Snoke is dead, Kylo is their new Supreme Leader, and you’re to command and lead the Order by his side as the empress, and you’re their new master. Some of the Knights murmur their appreciation, some begin addressing you by your new title, and some simply kneel. You urge them to their feet, telling them that Kylo will rejoin all of you soon, but he has to deal with the Resistance on Crait before giving all of you his orders.

 

The Knights stay by your side as you make your way to the bridge of the Finalizer, following you like a pack of vultpexes. The officers on the bridge are quick to rise to their feet and salute you, but you wave your hand, ordering them at ease as you check the coordinates for your next destination. Originally, the course had been to escape to the Outer Rim, but the new orders align with Kylo’s plan from earlier, to reconvene on Coruscant. There’s no question that the Order still remains rich with supporters, but you wonder how many will still be willing to fund and support the Order if the battle on Crait is yet another loss.

 

What time spent on the Finalizer for you is full of pacing the bridge, with the Knights offering to take you to a room to sleep, or to take you to eat, but you politely brush them off. Nothing interests you at the moment, other than Kylo’s safety. Every once in a while, you feel the pull in your chest intensify, or twist, as though you’ve heard devastating news, and it’s nearly brought you to your knees a few times. Each time, one of the Knights has steadied you, tried to convince you to sit, at least, but you can’t bring yourself to settle for longer than a few seconds at a time.

 

It seems like you’ve been waiting for ages when you finally see ships leaving Crait, and you’re immediately at the controls, searching for familiar ships. A sigh of relief escapes you when you note that the command shuttle is leading the convoy, and you’ve rushed off the bridge and to the elevator, en route to the hangar to meet the incoming ships. The only thing you truly care about is if Kylo is alive, if he’s unharmed, if he’s won. As the command shuttle touches down in the bay, you don’t even wait for the safety check before you rush inside, pushing past officers and Hux himself. Kylo stands at the controls, his body rigid and stiff as he stands frozen in place, watching something that isn’t there.

 

You wrap your arms around his waist, feeling him relax immediately at your touch as he turns, leaning into you and exhaling slowly, his body shaking as you nuzzle his chest, whisper reassurances to him. He threads his fingers through your hair, bending down just enough to kiss you, his nose brushing against yours. His lips taste like salt and sweat and blood, and he smells of oil and ozone and leather and something that’s so distinctly _Kylo_.

 

“You’re safe,” you murmur as he kisses you over and over. “I’m here, the Knights are here, it’s okay. We’re en route to Coruscant, I made sure of it.”

 

“They got away,” Kylo replies, and while he sounds angry, he sounds more tired and frustrated than anything. “But they are few, and we will put an end to them.” He buries his face in your hair, his breaths still heavy and uneven, and you lean into him, letting him hold you as he settles.

 

“What are we doing on Coruscant to make reparations? Is there an event we’re attending?” you ask when Kylo finally untangles himself from you. His hand slips into yours as he escorts you off the shuttle, and as you walk together down the ramp, you pass a group of maintenance troopers.

 

“The first night of the Starlit Carpet event takes place tomorrow evening. You and I, as the new ruling leaders of the Order and of the Unknown Regions, will stay and attend for the week-long festival and make amends with doubtful supporters, as well as convince our stronger allies to continue funding our plans.”

 

“And what of the rest of the Order?” you ask.

 

“They will rejoin the fleet in the Outer Rim and repair, regain their strength, and recondition all troopers. With Phasma gone, we need a new commanding trooper to head the battalions. The Finalizer will remain near Coruscant,” he answers, sounding as though he’s already thought of everything in advance, like he’s foreseen it.

 

He stops abruptly before the two of you reach the elevator to take you to the suites on the upper levels, and you’re confused, even more so when you see him smirk. It’s the same boyish, playful smirk you recognize from years ago, back when you were only apprentices in training together. He bends down and sweeps you off your feet in one fluid motion, carrying you over the threshold of the elevator and bumping the floor button with his elbow. You can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the gesture, but when he goes to set you down, you wrap your arms around his neck, leaning in to kiss him.

 

“I’ll have Hux marry us later,” he says, still smiling at you. “For now, I want to be alone. With you.”

 

* * *

 

Your suite on Coruscant is easily the most luxurious suite you’ve ever set foot in. A part of you knew that your rooms would be some of the best ones on the entire planet, but you didn’t think that you’d be put up in the penthouse of the most expensive hotel on the entire ecumenopolis. The massive window on one side of the room gives you a view of the richest part of the planet, the streets full of costumed, masked guests on their way to the first night of festivities, held at the former Jedi temple-turned-opera house. While there is no set theme, you note that this year, it seems as though the guests decided that the more reflective, sparkly things on their clothes, the better. You smooth the shimmering fabric of your own dress—jet black, with a red silk lining. It’s almost plain in comparison to many of the gowns you’ve seen in the boutique windows, but you know that its simplicity and elegance will make you stand out more.

 

The dress is the same one you were married in, just hours earlier, by a begrudging General Hux, and you’d since just left it on. It complements Kylo’s suit perfectly, down to the red silk kerchief in his pocket and his red tie. The only thing missing from both your ensembles are the twin capes, draped over the couch, both black velvet and shimmering with gold, marking you as members of the ruling class. Kylo had almost convinced you to wear a crown, until you reminded him that no one wore their crowns to events, out of courtesy for the rest of the guests as to not make them feel _so_ inferior. He’d reluctantly backed out, but not before you promised that you could wear them around the bases all he wanted.

 

Kylo, in question, is draped across the massive bed, dressed save for his tie and shoes. He watches you, his expression blissful, his body relaxed, for once. He sprawls across the expanse of the bed like a lazy cat, his slow, deliberate movements only emphasizing how feline he appears to be. You watch him, amused, as he stretches, closing his eyes for a moment before fixing them on you again. His hair falls into his eyes in messy, silky waves, and his dark eyes sparkle with a genuine happiness you’ve never seen before.

 

“Are you my husband, or are you my pet?” you tease him as he stretches again.

 

“I could be both,” he purrs. He extends his hand to you, lazily wiggling his fingers. “Come here.”  
  
You fake reluctance as you make your way over to him, letting him take your hand and rub it against his cheek. “We have to leave soon, Kylo, or we’re going to be late.”

 

“And who’s going to hunt us down?” he asks as he pulls you down beside him. He kisses you, long and slow, his lips sinfully plush against your own. “They can wait. I don’t want to.”  
  
“Kylo,” you say. “We spent two hours fucking in our new suite back on the Finalizer. Was that not enough?”

 

His smile is dangerous, and it sends a rush of heat through you as he bites your lower lip. “I can never get enough of you, Little One.” He pulls you on top of him, letting you straddle his waist as he admires you, purring gently. One of his hands finds the zipper of your dress, fiddling with it as you smirk down at him.

 

“Take it off,” he murmurs. “Let me see you.”

 

“You first.”

 

Kylo sighs as he slides his hands to your waist, but he lets you go as he starts to untie his tie. His expression is full of false frustration, but it’s quickly replaced with rapt attention when you climb off of the bed and unzip your dress. It falls in a shimmering puddle at your feet, leaving you in your lingerie and stockings, your shoes long since forgotten beside his own by the couch. He’s only gotten the first two buttons of his shirt undone, and still wearing both his waistcoat and his jacket, his belt only half off. His eyes are wide as you step closer to him and begin to undress him yourself, unfastening his buttons much more quickly than he was doing himself.

 

“What happened to not being able to wait, Supreme Leader?” you ask teasingly. “I thought you were impatient.” You lean in and kiss him as you push his jacket, along with his shirt and waistcoat, off his broad shoulders. He growls, pulling you into his lap and closer to him. His skin is hot against yours, his grip tight on your body. With one hand, he slides his pants to his ankles before kicking them off completely, allowing you to feel him grinding against you. He never fails to leave you at a loss for words, between his insatiable hunger and his lack of a refractory period.

 

“Say it again,” he growls as his hands begin to unhook the back of your corset. “ _Who am I_?”

 

“ _Supreme Leader Ren_ ,” you reply, kissing him and pulling at his bottom lip with your teeth, earning you yet another growl. You half expect him to tear the rest of your corset apart, but instead, he unhooks each tiny clasp carefully, and tosses the entire bodice to the floor when he’s done. His lips make a hot, wet trail from your mouth, to your jaw, to your collarbone, to your sternum as he kisses between your breasts. His hair tickles your skin as his hands grip your ass, his fingers curled in the delicate lace of your underwear.

 

“On the bed,” he orders. “I want to taste you.” His cheeks are flushed, but the look in his eyes does not allow for questioning.

 

You climb off his lap just long enough for him to pin you to the bed by your shoulders, his mouth kissing a slow trail down your stomach as he pulls you to the edge of the bed, kneeling between your legs. He holds you by your thighs, his hands so large that one of them almost encircles your thigh. His kisses are punctuated by bites as he edges closer to your cunt, and soon, you’re panting and desperate for him to just _touch_ you. He doesn’t tear your panties either, but when he takes them off, he does push them under the bed, out of your reach.

 

The moment you feel his mouth on you, his tongue pressed flat against your cunt, tasting you, you can’t help but let out a breath, one you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Kylo growls against you, the vibrations going straight to your core as he presses his tongue into you, almost snarling when he feels how wet you are. His nails dig into your skin as he begins to suck on your clit, murmuring into you, each word a different sensation, until you uncurl your hands from the sheets and twist them in his hair, pulling hard, urging him on.

 

“Beg me,” he snarls, and it’s the only thing you’re able to make out of all he’s said so far.

 

“Please, Supreme Leader Ren, please let me cum, please, I need it, I need you, I—”

 

He purrs, and his nails dig into your skin even deeper as he growls his approval. Your entire body goes rigid as you cum, your chest heaving as you gasp out a mix of curses, interspersed with Kylo’s name. Your toes curl as Kylo continues to indulge you to the point of overstimulation, until you’re begging him to stop. The look on his face is that of hunger, a feral need that you know will only be solved by his cock in your cunt and his hands pinning your wrists to the bed. His lips are shiny with your cum, and when he leans down to kiss you, you can taste the bittersweetness on his lips.

 

“My empress,” he purrs. “My _wife_.”

 

“ _Kylo_ ,” you whimper, pulling him back in for another kiss. His lips on yours are everything you’ve been longing for, they taste of salt and of you, they are soft but demanding, they are something so purely _Kylo_ that you realize why no one else has made you feel as complete as he does.

 

You’re only mildly aware of him ridding himself of the last of his own clothing before you feel the head of his cock sliding along your cunt as he continues to kiss you, one of his hands pinning your own to the bed as he interlocks his fingers with yours. His other hand rests at your hip, holding you still as he presses into you, taking your breath away as you feel him stretching you to your limits. You let out an involuntary yelp as you feel his hips finally meet yours, your entire chest feeling tight as he sighs in bliss. It’s never mattered how many times you’ve been together—he always makes you feel like he’s moved everything else aside inside you to make room for his cock.

 

“This is my favorite way to see you,” he purrs, as he thrusts slowly, letting you feel him sliding inside you, the stretch of him. “But that’s only because I haven’t seen you on your throne yet.”

 

His thrusts begin to increase in speed as you wrap your legs around his waist, trying to pull him deeper. You whimper when you feel your second orgasm approaching, and Kylo growls as he feels you clenching around him, his hands gripping you more tightly as you start begging again. This time, your words are far from complete sentences and even your words come out in mumbles, in fragments as Kylo begins to chase his own orgasm.

 

“Are you going to cum with me, Little One?” he growl-purrs, his hand at your hip sliding between you, his thumb rubbing your clit hard and fast, his hips pistoning faster as you whimper his name.

 

“Please, I want to cum, I want to cum with you, Kylo, _please_ ,” you beg, your voice high and breathless. Kylo’s pace increases, his growls becoming louder as your orgasm hits, his thumb turning your clit to liquid heat, driving you into a third orgasm as he cums with a snarl. He grinds into you, trying to get deeper as his hips still, his breathing beginning to even out. You whimper when he pulls out, a steady stream of his cum leaking out of your still-sensitive cunt. Kylo just gathers you in his arms, pulling you against him in a warm, secure embrace, nuzzling your hair as he picks you up and carries you to the bathroom.

 

He sets you on the counter, pulling a towel from the rack to clean you up and to let you wrap yourself in. Gone is the feral, hungry look in his eyes, replaced with the deep, soulful compassion from before. Wordlessly, he cups your face in both his hands as he kisses you and you wrap your arms around his neck. A gentle purr rumbles through him as he picks you up and carries you back to bed, tucking you under the blankets and climbing in behind you to pull you to his chest.

 

“Was your entire plan to make us miss the first night?” you ask sleepily, and you almost don’t expect him to answer, until he stirs behind you and you feel him nip the curve of your ear.

 

“Maybe,” he murmurs. “Or maybe it’s because I wanted to do this right now, and not in some corner at the party.”

 

You roll over to face him, smiling up at him as he just watches you, with all the gentleness he’s shown to you and you alone. His smile warms you right to your heart as he pulls you closer in his arms, one hand stroking your hair soothingly, urging you to sleep.

 

“I love you, Kylo.”  
  
“I know...I love you too, Little One.”

  


**Author's Note:**

> if you have made it this far, thank you so much for reading! I know the demand for The Last Jedi/Post-TLJ fics is incredibly high right now, and while I don't intend to try and write some 60k word epic (for the time being), I am perfectly happy providing these! if you enjoyed, please leave a kudo or a comment! or come scream at me on [tumblr](http://bensolosren.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
